


Five Times Jensen Needed a Little Help From His Friends (And One Time They Were Just Acting Weird)

by whiskygalore



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Hurt Jensen, M/M, Protective Jared, Protective Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Protective Siblings, Shy Jensen, jensen/others mentioned but nothing graphic happens, no underage but young Jensen attracts attention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:47:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22044316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskygalore/pseuds/whiskygalore
Summary: Five times Jensen needed a little help to save him from the unwanted attention of others and one time he liked the attention just fine thank you!
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 53
Kudos: 310





	1. ONE - JOSH

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this years-old prompt from the spn-kink meme. I’ve had this sitting unfinished in my files forever and figured posting it before the end of the decade might be a good idea! 
> 
> Prompt - I would love to read a "Five Time" story, where Jared or some other friends of Jensen witness situations, where Jensen has to deal with unwanted attention and they had to step in and help him out, and one time Jensen handled the situation by himself.

He just wanted fifteen minutes of peace. That shouldn’t be too much to ask for. Both Carl and Brandon had managed to beat his score on Street Fighter, and Brandon, the jerkoff, was still bragging about it. In front of Bethany too. Sure, that wasn't Jensen's fault but it was hard to concentrate with his ten-year-old brother constantly bugging him. 

"Hey, Josh? Can we go play air hockey now? Please?"

"Jesus, just give me ten minutes, Jensen," Josh snapped, losing another freaking life. Bethany laughed in the background at something, apparently hilarious, that Brandon had just said. Josh squeezed the joystick too hard and another life bit the dust in a flurry of punches and a kick to the head. Josh slapped the front of the machine in temper.

At his side Jensen still wouldn't quit pestering him. "But Josh, you said that ages ago. And mom said—"

"God Jensen, just shut up! You're such a whiny baby. No wonder you don't have any friends of your own to hang out with."

Jensen's cheeks turned pink, his eyes quickly filling with tears. And shit, Josh knew that was unfair; Jensen's modelling ate up a lot of the time that most kids spent making friends. But seriously, why should Josh have to suffer just because their mom wanted Jensen’s dorky face in a bunch of magazines. 

Ignoring Jensen's sniffles, and the backhanded swipe under his dripping nose, Josh raked through his pocket for some change.

“Here,” he said, almost throwing it at his little brother. "Do something useful and go fetch us both a drink. Pepsi for me."

"Fine.” Jensen sniffed, pouty bottom lip trembling. He grabbed the money with his sticky hands and stomped off. 

Ignoring the quick flash of guilt that twisted in his belly, Josh turned his attention back to his game. 

Forty minutes later, Josh whooped in victory. Top score, at freaking last, suck on that guys. Unfortunately, when he looked up, he discovered there was no one around to witness his stunning achievement. A quick scan of the arcade revealed Brandon and Carl engrossed in a game across at the Daytona USA cabinets, Bethany standing nearby, blowing bubbles with her gum and looking incredibly bored. 

“Fuck!” Josh kicked the bottom of the machine as he cursed, stubbing his toe like an idiot. He looked up, shame-faced, hoping no-one had noticed his mini temper tantrum. Thankfully the arcade was crowded and noisy enough that no-one was paying him any attention.

Just as well his mother wasn't around. She wouldn’t have missed it. She wouldn’t have missed his head with the back of her hand either. Never mind the fact he was almost sixteen. She didn't appreciate foul language. Well, as long as Jensen didn't tell her, he'd be fine. And to be fair to Jensen, he could be an annoying brat but he wasn’t a tattletale. Then again, considering what a jerk Josh had been to him today, Jensen might just rat on him.

Maybe, hopefully, he hadn't seen. Josh looked around again, trying to spot Jensen in amongst the rows of machines. Without success. He looked at his watch, and felt the first flutter of panic when he realized that he hadn't seen Jensen for over forty-five minutes.

The arcade wasn't that big. There weren't too many places the kid could be. Josh checked the men’s room, every damn stall. Walked up and down the rows of games. The vending machine. The ticket booth. No sign of him.

"Have you seen Jensen?" He asked Bethany, shaking her arm to get her attention.

"Who?" She asked, shrugging him off, with a scowl.

"My little brother,” Josh snapped. "He was with me earlier."

"I don't think so," Bethany said, finally looking up. "Why? You lost him?"

"Shit, you lost your little brother dude? Your mom is gonna be pissed. Guess you'll not be going to Rebecca's party after all." Brandon, the dumbass, sneered at him. 

Josh had never felt more like punching someone in his life. "It's not funny, dickhead. He's only ten."

"I thought I saw him earlier." Carl appeared from behind Brandon, shoving the other boy hard on the shoulder. "He was talking to a guy at the air hockey table."

"Fuck!” Josh's eyes skipped to the air hockey even though he knew Jensen wasn't there. It was Jensen’s favorite game. Josh had already checked he wasn’t hanging around there at least three times already. 

"You think we should call the cops?" Carl asked.

Brandon laughed. "Don't be fucking stupid, he's probably taking a piss."

"I've checked the restrooms," Josh said, running his hands through his hair. 

"What about outside," Bethany chipped in, finally realizing how serious the situation could be. "He might have wandered out there to wait for you."

It was one place Josh hadn't checked. Worth a try. He ran off at a sprint, muttering apologies as he barged through anyone too slow to move out of his way.

"Come on, Jensen, you said you wanted to."

"Yeah, but my brother...”

"We'll be back before your brother even knows you're gone."

Josh burst out of the door just in time to witness some dude, who looked like a middle-aged, gone to seed, linebacker, trying to persuade his brother to follow him. It was like a scene out of a shitty stranger danger PSA. 

"Look, my car's right there, just across the street. Ain't she gorgeous."

"Hey," Josh yelled. 

Jensen startled, turned to Josh with something that looked a lot like panic in his eyes. The guy beside him jumped, his hand snapping out, and snatching Jensen's upper arm. He glared at Josh, his pig-eyes narrowing. "Mind your own business, buddy."

"That's my brother, asshole," Josh snarled, grabbing hold of Jensen's other arm, and yanking him back, hard enough to make Jensen yelp. It felt like his kid brother was some kind of dog toy they were fighting over. "Get your sicko hands off him."

The guy’s face set firm. His grip on Jensen only tightening. He looked set to argue. Looked like he was going to try and drag Jensen right out of Josh's hand. 

"Help!" Josh yelled, as loud as he could manage. His mouth had turned bone dry, dust clogging his throat, his heart jumping scared-rabbit quick in his chest. "Someone call the cops!"

The guy looked around, shoulders hunching up around his beefy neck. "Calm down, kid. I wasn't doing nothing. Just letting your brother see my car. Look, that Porsche across the street."

"Whatever, dickhead," Josh said, not chancing a glance. Not taking his eyes off the creep that _still_ had his hand on Jensen's arm. He was terrified that if he looked away for even a second, if he relaxed his grip, Jensen would just disappear.

"Josh?" Jensen's voice shook. It made him sound like he was about four years old again. Made Josh want to scoop him into his arms and run all the way back home. 

The guy licked his lips, narrow strips in his greedy face, and looked between Josh and Jensen, indecision and temptation making his muscles twitch.

Josh opened his mouth to yell again. And finally, fucking finally, the creep let go of Jensen, dropped his arm like it was diseased. The sick fat-fingered freak, he was the one diseased. 

"Okay, kid,” the guy said, backing away, eyes lingering too long on Jensen's face. "I'm going. No harm, no foul, alright."

Josh hauled Jensen behind him with one hand. The other held up in front of them like he could fend off the guy if he had to. Maybe he couldn’t, but he’d damn well try. He almost sobbed in relief when the guy took off at a flat-footed sprint.

"I wasn't gonna go, Josh. I'm sorry." Jensen cried from behind him. 

"It's okay," Josh said, watching the guy jog down the street, straight past the shiny red sports car that Josh presumed he'd told Jensen was his. "I know. It's okay."

"Are you gonna call the police, Josh?"

Josh didn't want to. Lord knows he was gonna be in a world of hurt when his parents found out how close he'd come to losing Jensen to that creep, but he knew it was the right thing to do. "I think we have to, Jen, he might try and do it again. The next kid might not have a big brother to rescue him." 

"No, please don't. _Please._ Mom and Dad are gonna be so mad." Jensen was inconsolable, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks tear stained and nose dripping snot. "I wasn't gonna go." Jensen's chest heaved. "Was just gonna look from the door."

"Hey, c'mere buddy." Josh tucked Jensen into his arms. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry." Jensen buried his head into Josh's t-shirt. 

"You scared the crap out of me, dude," Josh admitted, squeezing his brother's baby-bird bones too tight. "Why did you leave, huh?"

"He was nice." Jensen sniffed. "I was bored. He played a game of air hockey with me. He told me all about his car. Said it was real pretty. That he'd let me see it. I wasn't gonna go, Josh," Jensen wailed against his chest.

Josh held Jensen, glaring daggers at a bunch of kids who shouldered past them into the arcade. Where the hell were they five minutes ago when Josh could have used a little help. Eventually the pair of them made it back inside, Josh not letting go of Jensen for even one second, not even while he phoned his parents, wincing at his mother's shrill panic.

He waited by the door, Jensen tucked under his arm, for their parents to appear. For hell to rain down on him when they did. He was supposed to be looking out for Jensen. Supposed to be watching him. Had sworn blind he would. Well, hell, let them yell. Let them ground them. Both of them. Please God, let them ground Jensen until his too pretty face was covered in zits and his perfect teeth caged in ugly braces. Josh breathed out raggedly against the top of his brother's soft hair, willed the frantic thump of his panicked heart against his ribs to let up. Jensen was safe. 

This time, a sinister voice hissed in his ear. Jensen was safe _this time._


	2. TWO - CHRIS

Jensen had been in a funk for days now. Not wound tight like he sometimes got, screwing himself into panic-taut knots about one thing or another that he couldn't control. But a silent brooding pile of limbs too leaden with misery to move. He'd barely dragged his mopey ass off Chris's liquor-soaked couch all day.

Chris took a long draw of his beer and looked down at the pity party for one Jensen had going on. "Holy shit, boy. I swear you're starting to stink the place up." 

"Fuck you, Chris." Jensen flipped him off and continued his brooding without even sitting up.

"No, seriously." Chris kicked the base of the couch. "I haven't seen you move in three days. Your ass is gonna be fused to my fucking couch."

"I had that sit-com audition yesterday morning, asshole. You were still passed out when I got back," Jensen bit back.

"You did?" Chris thought back. It was possible. He guessed. Jensen had mentioned an audition a few days back. And it wasn't like Chris was a morning person. Especially not when he'd had a show the night before. "So, I'm guessing it didn't go well,” he asked, knocking back another mouthful of beer.

Jensen snorted. "Sure. It went great. They thought I was perfect for the good-looking dim-witted boyfriend part. I actually thought I had this one in the bag. Until the producer told me to get down on my knees and suck his dick."

Chris's beer caught at the back of his throat before he sprayed it in a lung-shredding cough over Jensen and the damn couch. "Holy shit, what?"

Jensen grimaced and scrubbed his hand across his face. "It ain't like it's the first time. I really wanted that fucking part though."

"It ain't the first time?" Chris parroted, wiping the beer drips from his mouth with the back of his hand. "What kind of auditions are you going to Jenny boy?"

"It's never happened to you?" Jensen actually twisted his head, looking up at Chris for the first time. 

"No!" Chris said, shocked enough to sound like his Puritan aunt. "Never." But then, Chris was all lip-curling sneers and angry fists. A bad boy charmer or nose-breaking muscle. He wasn't a baby-faced pretty boy. Shit, Jensen was prettier than most of the girls Chris had slept with. Even the ones he slept with sober. "Did you punch the fucker in the face?"

"Yeah, sure." Jensen snorted. "That would have gone down real well. I'd have punched my career right out the fucking door and been on a greyhound back to Richardson right now."

"You didn't do it though, right? I mean you've never..." Chris let his words tail off. Not really wanting to ask Jensen if he'd slept his way onto Days.

Jensen threw him a slit-eyed glare. "No, Christian. I've never slept with anyone to land a job."

"Okay." Chris nodded, took another drink of his beer, and nodded again. "Good. That's good."

"But I really wanted that part, man,” Jensen moaned. "I would have fucking rocked it."

Chris tossed his empty bottle across the room into the cardboard box that was currently passing as a trash can. "There'll be other jobs."

Jensen hmphed in response, his expression as stormy as his mood. Tequila, Chris decided. It was a night for Tequila. He took another look at Jensen's pout. The situation possibly called for pot too. He'd call Steve.

"You know my agent says I should never have quit Days,” Jensen mused when Chris turned away.

"Your agent's a useless bitch," Chris called over his shoulder as he searched through the kitchen cupboards for the puke-cheap bottle of Jose he knew was hiding somewhere.

"She said," Jensen continued, in a way that made Chris question whether he'd spoken aloud or Jensen was just flat-out ignoring him. "That I should grow the hell up and use my God given gifts."

Chris pulled his head out of the cupboard he was searching and wandered back through to the sitting area empty handed. He wasn't sure he'd heard right. He hoped not. "She said what?" 

"That if I ever wanted to find another job, I should grow up and use my God given gifts. She also called me a prissy bitch. So y'know, I'm guessing she was talking about my cock-sucking lips and not my acting skills." 

Chris felt the sudden need to hurl. Or punch something. Or someone. 

"Son, that is so fucking messed up. Please tell me you fired her." 

Jensen shrugged. Chris ground his teeth. Then took a deep breath. “You need a new agent. You get that right?”

"Maybe she's right," Jensen said, so fucking flat that Chris felt like shaking him just to hear a crack of emotion in his voice. "Maybe I just need suck it up and do what it takes to get a job. I mean there are plenty of other kids in this town. Better looking than me. More talented than me. If blowing some asshat helps me land a role, maybe I should just do it. It's not that big a deal, is it?"

Chris gawked at Jensen, speechless for once in his life. Waiting, without much hope, for Jensen to burst out that dumb laugh of his. Tell Chris this whole conversation was a really fucked up bad joke. Jensen nodded his head, taking Chris's silence for agreement. The stupid fuck.

"No, Jensen,” Chris growled. “I mean, yes. It is a big deal. No, that bitch isn't right. No, you shouldn't suck anyone's dick to get a job. No way. Not fucking ever."

Jensen sighed. "Maybe I was stupid to ditch Days."

Chris tried very hard to hold onto the frayed ends of his patience. "Days was killing you, dude. You hated those fucking people."

"Not all of them." 

"Enough of them to make you miserable."

Jensen sighed. Again. Chris snapped.

"That's it! Come on you miserable bastard. Get your lazy ass off my couch before I drag you off it."

Jensen lifted an eyebrow in a silent 'what the fuck?'

"We're going out,” Chris said, grabbing the shoulder of Jensen's t-shirt and hauling him to his feet. "Go put a shirt on that doesn't stink."

"This shirt doesn't stink. And I'm broke," Jensen hissed, slapping Chris's hands away. "I don't want to go out."

Chris shoved Jensen towards the bathroom. "I don't give a shit. Clean your teeth, find your shoes and let's go."

  
The bar was packed. Too many bodies crammed in too small a space. Air con that didn't do more than circulate warm sweat-saturated air. And a band that played hard and fast and loud. Steve was only standing thanks to the help of the bar and an equally wrecked leggy blonde. Chris had a mellow buzz going on and Jensen… despite a couple of shots of tequila, and the beer he'd been nursing for the past hour, Jensen was still moping. 

Shoving twenty bucks toward the kid behind the bar, Chris grabbed a new round of shots, pushed a couple towards Steve and his friend, took the other two and headed back to the table he'd left Jensen sulking at. The table that was now at the center of a rowdy group of girls. For a minute Chris thought that they'd swallowed Jensen up along with the table, God knows girls seemed to gravitate to wherever the kid was at. Unfortunately, it looked like Jensen had simply fucked off.

If he'd gone home without even saying goodbye Chris was gonna kill him. He knocked back his shot, shuddered at the cheap burn, then threw back Jensen's as well. 

"You alright?" Steve's hand slapped down, lazy and hot, on his back. The smell of weed drifting around him like a cloud, the sweet smoke scent clinging to his hair, probably seeping from his pores by this point. 

"Did you see Jensen leave?" Chris sighed, righteously pissed off. He scanned the bar, but the lights were too dim, the place too crowded, to make out more than random bodies pressed together.

Steve nodded towards the door. "Saw someone that looked a lot like our boy head outside with his phone in his hand a few minutes ago."

Chris grunted his thanks, slapped Steve's shoulder, and pushed him back in the direction of the girl who looked a deep breath away from falling asleep on the bar. 

The air outside was cooler, but hardly pleasant, the stench of beer barely covering the rancid smell of piss and puke. Chris looked around, grimacing when he spotted a Jensen shaped figure in a doorway across the street. Hands rammed in his pockets, Chris stomped an empty cigarette packet flat and kicked at a glass bottle before heading after him. 

"Yeah," he heard Jensen say. "He said that? Shit, I know. U'huh. I know and I'm sorry. Fine, okay, set it up. Tomorrow? And I just have to… well… yeah, whatever. Yeah, I will."

"Tell me that was not your agent, dipshit,” Chris snapped. Jensen flipped his cell shut, and shoved it in his back pocket, wiping his hands across his thighs like they were grease-damp.

"How about you mind your own damn business," Jensen snapped right back, a mulish squint in his eyes that could only mean he'd done something stupid.

Chris shook his head, fisting his hands in his pockets. "You dumb fucking moron. What did you do?"

"I grew up," Jensen spat, shoulders hunching up to his ears.

"No, you grew stupid."

"Fuck off, Chris." 

Jensen made to walk away. But Chris had put up with enough screwed-up shit for one day. He shoved Jensen back, up against the door. Growled in his face. "You gonna blow some slime-ball's dick just for two minutes of screen time and a paycheck that won't even cover the cost of condoms and mouthwash. What about the next time, huh? The next job? You gonna let the next scumbag producer fuck you? I mean, why not, right? I tell you, boy, there's plenty of assholes around happy to take advantage of a naive kid from nowhere, Texas. You gonna go ass up for them all?"

"Fuck you!" Jensen snarled, swinging angry-wild at Chris's face, missing by a clear mile and almost tipping onto his knees. "Everyone does it. It's the fucking job."

Jensen swung again, Chris ducked out of the way, watched Jensen's scrappy punch skim past his nose. He shoved Jensen in the chest, hard enough to send him tripping back against the wall. Held him there with a firm grip and don't-fuck-with-me glare. He didn't want to get into a knockdown blow-out fist fight with the kid.

"It's not the job,” he growled. "It's nowhere fucking near the job. You're an actor not a goddam whore."

"I'm a pretty boy twink in a town packed full of pretty boys." Jensen sneered. "If the only thing I've got going for me is my dick-sucking skills, I might as well take advantage of them."

"Yeah? You gonna be able to look your momma in the face after you've done it? Gonna call up your grandma and tell her how you slept your way into a bit part on a sitcom that wasn't even funny five years ago? You even gonna be able to look at yourself in the mirror afterwards?"

"Screw you, Chris,” Jensen said, but there was no heat behind the words. Just bone-deep, end of the world, exhaustion.

Chris let his hands fall away from Jensen's chest. He took a step back and a deep breath.

"This guy, Jensen. This worthless slime-ball producer, he ain't worth your time. The job ain't worth your talent. I know you, son. Better than you think. And I know if you do this now, you won't never forgive yourself."

"What choice do I have, Chris?" Jensen's legs folded beneath him, body crumpling, he slid down the wall until he was ass-flat on the ground, head on his knees. "I can't play the game like you can. I'm not… I just… I can't do it anymore. Can't take anymore fucking knocks. I'm sick of being too pretty, or too young, or not young enough. Or just not fucking talented enough. I need… I need..."

"To fire your agent's useless ass." Chris crouched in front of Jensen, clasped his shoulders and shook, just enough to make him look up. “Jen, there are a hundred jobs out there with your name on them. You just need the right people around you to help find them. Someone that isn't so fucking terrible at her job that she tells you to screw someone for a part."

"But..."

Chris shook his head. "No. You're worth more than that."

"I'm not, Chris," Jensen frowned, head in his hands, fingers tugging cruelly at his hair. "I'm really not."

Chris wanted to kill someone. Wanted to choke the life out of them. Watch them goddamn swing by the neck. Whoever taught Jensen that he wasn't worth more than a back-office blow-job. That he wasn't more than a too-pretty face and perfect ass. 

"C'mon dickhead," Chris said, burying his anger deep down and shoveling a shit-load of surly attitude and tough love right on top of it. "Get off your ass and stop whining."

Jensen blinked those big green eyes up at him in confusion. "What?"

"I said get up, son." Chris hauled Jensen up by his elbows, whether he liked it or not, the pair of them stumbling awkwardly to their feet. "We're gonna get you so fucking trashed you don't even remember all the stupid crap you just said. And tomorrow once you're done puking your guts up, we're gonna find you a new agent."

"Chris." Jensen complained, shoulders stiff under Chris's arm as he led him back inside. 

"I ain't arguing, boy. We're all gonna head back to Steve's, smoke his emergency stash, drink his gut-scouring bourbon and pass the fuck out."

"Does Steve know this?" Jensen attempted a strained twitch of a smile.

Chris laughed, slapped Jensen's back, and stole his cell phone out of his back-pocket. "Not yet, son, not yet."

But he would in a minute. And he'd know from Chris's expression and Jensen's blood shot eyes that the leggy blonde would wait until another night, and his weed would be replaced when Chris's next check came through. And while Steve concentrated on unwinding the pressure in their boy's bones, Chris would be calling Jensen's useless bitch of an agent. 

The bouncer standing behind the door surreptitiously mouthed a silent prayer and crossed himself when he saw the ice-cold glint in Chris's eyes.

  
  



	3. THREE - KRISTIN

“Hey, Kreuk, bring me beer, woman."

"Sure thing, Rosenbaum. And then I'll shove it straight up your lazy ass."

"Hey now, Kristin, baby, that's no way to treat your guests."

"It's your party, moron."

"It is? Huh! You sure about that?"

"I think I'd know, Mike. I am the one that's sober."

"You're sober? Shit, woman that'll never do. What kind of a party are you throwing here? Go fetch the beer."

There were times, like these, that Kristin wondered when she'd swapped her acting career for a babysitting one. As nice as it was to have a steady job on Smallville, she did sometimes recall, with fond longing, the days when she didn't have to deal with Mike Rosenbaum.

"Aw, don't look at me like that."

Kristin set her hands on her hips. "Like what, Mike?" 

"Like you're wondering whether to poison me or smack me over the head with the candlestick in the library." Mike fluttered his dark eyelashes and pouted. The suicide-blonde perched on his lap cooed at him and attempted to kiss the pout from his lips.

Kristin rolled her eyes and tried not to gag. "You have a library with actual books?"

"Well, it's more of a video library really.” Mike nodded, seriously. "My porn collection is second to none. You want to borrow something? I can recommend a good lesbian fisting film, circa 1973.”

Kristin closed her eyes, but it didn't block out the images now scarred in her brain. "Please shut up, Mike. Before I feel obliged to brain Lex Luther with a beer bottle for the good of humanity."

"Oh, baby, you know you love me." Mike grinned. The girl on his lap scowled.

Kristin did love the big bald moron, but still, there were limits. "I'm going to— “

"Fetch me beer?" 

"Sure." Kristin sighed, long suffering. "I'm going to fetch you a beer. From your fridge. In _your_ kitchen. At _your_ party."

"I knew you loved me." Mike beamed. The girl draped over him, curled her hands around his neck and attached herself to his lips as if trying to remind him of her existence. Or maybe just to shut him up. Kristin happily left them to it. 

"Mike's enjoying himself as usual,” Tom noted, appearing at Kristin's shoulders, with a stealthy step that belied his size. "Do we know who that is trying to suck his tonsils out through his mouth?"

"Nope,” Kristin said, feeling a little sick at the unnecessary description. "But I think a few of her friends are attempting to get their claws into Jensen." 

Tom glanced in the direction she was nodding. Jensen was surrounded by three girls, one brushing an imaginary piece of fluff from his shirt. Jensen didn't appear to be enjoying himself. If anything, he looked like a rabbit who was debating chewing off his own leg to escape a snare. 

Tom took a sip of whisky and hummed thoughtfully. "I don't think they're going to have much luck." 

"Well, no," Kristin agreed. "Jensen has taste. And class. And common sense. Unlike your arch-nemesis on the couch there."

"Yeah," Tom said, but there was something else he wasn't saying. A silent shift behind his eyes. Kristin looked across at Jensen again, wondering what she was missing. Jensen took a step backwards when one of the girls leaned into his space, her breasts not just brushing his arm but pressing fully against it. Seriously, this girl didn’t seem to realize there was a firm line between flirting and sexual harassment 

Kristin wasn't one for gossip. Not really. But when you spent more than half your year tucked up in Vancouver with a small group of people, you got to know them all pretty well, pretty quickly. Whether you liked it or not. Some of them —Mike— a little too well. 

Jensen though, despite working with them all for the past three months, he was still something of an enigma. He definitely wasn't a dick, not like Justin. He wasn’t arrogant or standoffish. And not so full of himself that he didn't want to mix with everyone else. Hell, the crew loved him. Everyone from the make-up girls who thought he was adorable to the directors who gushed over how easy he was to work with. No, he wasn't an asshole. He just seemed a little reserved. Maybe even shy. The fact that he'd even turned up at Michael's party was something of a miracle. 

A high-pitched giggle from across the room and Jensen took another step backwards, a red flush crawling up his throat and spreading across his cheeks. 

"I heard Jessica and Weatherly made his life hell on the Dark Angel set," Kristin said, when Tom didn't seem intent on spilling any secrets. Superman and his damn tight-lipped morals. Tom liked to gossip more than anyone really, he simply needed some encouragement.

Tom took another sip of his drink without passing comment. 

"I heard," she tried again. "That Jensen had the hots for Jessica. And that Michael flipped his shit." 

"That's garbage," Tom said quietly, but with an intensity that made the hairs on Kristin’s arms stand on end.

"He tell you about it? Jensen?" Kristin asked, starting to feel uncomfortable on Jensen's behalf when another one of the girls, a redhead with a barely visible skirt and no sense of personal space, rubbed her hand over his chest, her gleaming red fingernails clawing into his shirt.

"No," Tom said. "I get the feeling he doesn't like talking about it."

"But you know what happened?"

Tom's gaze drifted across to Jensen before landing back on Kristin. "Yeah, I know someone. Someone who worked on the set.”

"And?" Kristin arched an impatient brow. This was like squeezing blood from a stone.

"He, Jensen, well… Weatherly liked him. A little too much. If you know what I mean. Jessica wasn't happy about it. Understandably I guess, seeing as how Michael and her were an item. She took it out on Jensen, even though the poor kid did everything he could to fend off Weatherly."

"That's horrible."

Tom nodded in agreement, took another sip of whisky and stared at the bottom of his glass when he realized it was empty. "It probably didn't help that Jensen stole every scene he was in either."

Kristin snorted at the truth in that. He didn’t do it deliberately but Jensen didn't know how _not_ to steal a scene. The camera loved him. And holy shit, could the boy act. 

"I didn't think Weatherly swung that way." 

Tom huffed. "That asshole swings towards anything with a pretty face."

Kristin looked at Tom in surprise: he wasn't usually the cursing sort of guy. "And Jensen? What way does he swing?"

Tom narrowed his eyes. "Does it matter?"

"No," she was quick to assure him. "Of course not. I was just curious. I've never seen him hook up with anyone. And trust me I've seen plenty of people try."

"Well," Tom said, "He's not out or anything and I guess he might be bi, but yeah, he likes guys."

"Huh.” Kristin didn't ask how Tom knew; she suspected that was one nosy question too far. "There's going to be a lot of heart-broken girls when that gets out."

Tom looked at her sharply. "Not that I'm going to tell anyone. Shit, Tom give me some credit."

"He's..." Tom bit his lip and stared down at his empty glass forlornly for a second while he considered his words. "I think he's… Jensen doesn't like a lot of attention."

Kristin almost snorted. "He's an actor, Tom. All actors like attention."

"Not all of them. Some of them just enjoy acting. Enjoy the chance to be someone else for a while."

"When did you get so wise, Supe', huh?"

"Wisdom comes with the cape." Tom chuckled. "Seriously though. I get the feeling the guy could do with some friends around him. _Real_ friends. Ones that don't just want to fuck him. Or fuck with him. Or date him for the publicity."

Tom glared across the room to where Jensen was backed up against the wall, the gaggle of girls pressing body-hot close to him. Kristin followed his glare and found herself moving towards the group without conscious thought. Tom stopped her, his fingers resting lightly on her arm. "Don't cause a scene. Jensen won't thank you for it."

"Have a little faith in me, Welling." Kristin rolled her eyes and tipped her head towards Mike who was all but fucking the girl on his lap. "And maybe do something about your boy before blondie eats him alive."

"Come on, gorgeous." The redhead was saying, a talon stroking down Jensen's arm. "You don't need to be shy with us." 

"Hey, Ackles," Kristin cut in, smoothly sliding in between Jensen and his groupies. "There you are. You promised to—”

"Do you mind." The tallest girl cut her off, sneering down at Kristin. "We’re in the middle of something here."

"Actually, I do mind." Kristin smiled as sweetly as she could under the circumstances. Edging in between the redhead and Jensen, she tucked her hand under Jensen's arm, his bicep flexing anxious-tight under her fingers. 

Jensen might be too much of a gentleman —all those deeply ingrained Texan manners that made girls’ panties wet and their mothers fall in love— to tell a woman to fuck off, but Kristin was raised to speak her mind. 

"Well, Jensen doesn't seem to mind." Botox Barbie No.3 glared daggers at Kristin as she tried to drag Jensen away from them.

"Actually," Jensen croaked. "I did promise Kristin that I’d..."

"Give me a ride home." Kristin filled in smoothly when Jensen's lie caught in his good-boy throat. The three witches hissed their disappointment. Jensen flinched. Kristin _accidentally_ stamped on one peep-toed sandal with her kitten heel and elbowed a bare midriff with her bony elbow. The squeals were satisfying. 

"Thank you," Jensen mumbled under his breath, letting Kristin guide him towards the door. "For the rescue, not for committing assault on my behalf. That was probably overkill."

Kristin laughed in delight. "You should have just told them to back off, y'know. You could have saved some poor girl's pedicure."

They paused when they reached the front door, Jensen turning to Kristin and rubbing at the back of his neck nervously. "Yeah, I'm sorry. And I would have told them eventually. You didn't need to jump in and rescue me. Not really. I just didn't want y'all to think I was a jerk. Well, an even bigger jerk."

Looking at Jensen, close up, face to face, Kristin was struck by just how good looking the guy was. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt the full force of those intense green eyes, or seen the smattering of freckles across his nose, but it was the first time she’d taken the time to appreciate the fact that Jensen was breathtakingly pretty. It took her a moment to steady herself. "Shit no, Jensen, no one thinks you're a jerk. And I wasn't complaining. Honestly. Those bitches would have scared Michael half to death."

Jensen quirked an eyebrow in obvious disbelief. 

"Well okay, not Mike. But you know any normal guy." Kristin amended with a laugh.

"He's something else, isn't he?" Jensen smiled.

"Yeah," Kristin agreed. "He is. But he's a good guy. Got a heart as big as his huge bald head. Everyone here is cool, really. We're a friendly bunch."

Jensen looked abashed, eyes dropping downwards and his fingernails tearing skin at the back of his neck. "Yeah, I know. I’m just..." Jensen sighed, and gnawed on his bottom lip, viciously enough that Kristin wanted to pry the abused flesh out from under those perfect teeth.

"Shy?" She suggested.

"No… yeah… I guess. I just… I haven't always had the best experiences. With some of my costars. Now I figure it's best just to keep myself to myself. I know —I've been told— that comes across as standoffish. And I do try. Not to act like a diva… or a dick. But I… it's hard for me. Sometimes. This kind of thing." Jensen finished his stilted speech, red-faced and almost breathless.

What Kristin really wanted to do was give the poor guy a hug. And if he didn't seem like he'd shatter under the contact, she would have. Instead she settled for placing her hand on his wrist, his pulse racing frantically under her fingertips. "No-one thinks you're a dick, Jensen. I swear to God, the whole crew love you."

"But— “

"But nothing. Shut up." Kristin smiled to soften her words. "They do. Even Margaret the wardrobe monster probably thinks you're adorable."

"Margaret?" Jensen parroted, nose scrunching, like a confused guinea pig. "But she loves everyone. She's sweet. She brought me a piece of her grandson's birthday cake last week. Chocolate."

Kristin’s mouth literally dropped open. "Margaret did? Margaret with the evil eyes. And the safety pins?”

"Erm... I guess?” 

"Oh my God!” She snorted, her hand flying to her face in mortification at the inelegant sound escaping in front of Jensen. But really that was precious. "Even John can't charm that woman. She made Tom cry once. And Mike still has the puncture wound from when she stabbed him."

"She stabbed him?"

"With a safety pin. That one was probably Mike's own fault. Anyway, see, everyone loves you."

Jensen smiled, a weak tweak of his lips, but a smile all the same. "Do you really need a ride home?"

"No," Kristin admitted. "My car's just outside."

"Oh, okay, then. Well, y'know, you can go on back in if you like." Jensen nodded towards the party noise emanating from deeper inside the house, dug in his pocket and produced his car-keys. "I'm gonna take off. Parties like this, well you probably noticed, they aren't really my thing."

"How about donuts? Are they your thing?" Kristin asked. "And coffee. Or maybe even hot chocolate."

"Well— " Jensen at least look tempted, if not totally convinced. The tiny lines crinkling uncertainly at the corners of his eyes. 

"I'll go grab Tom. And Erica, if I can find her. We'll head over to Tim Horton’s"

"No, really. I don't want to spoil anyone's night."

Kristin laughed. "Trust me, you're not. We prefer to leave Mike's parties before the cops show up anyway. Go on. I'll go grab the guys. You sneak out before the three bitches back there spot you lurking."

Jensen's shoulders dropped half an inch in relief. 

"We'll meet you outside,” Kristin said firmly. "So, no running away."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Jensen said.

"I mean it, Ackles.” Kristin squinted her eyes, pointing her finger menacingly. "Don't make me hunt you down. I've got Superman and Lex Luthor on my side."

Jensen huffed a laugh. "I'm more scared of you than them. But I promise. No running."


	4. FOUR - JARED

It wasn't that Jared felt intimidated. No. It was just that… well, this Jensen Ackles dude was seriously talented. And unfairly good looking. And Kripke apparently thought the sun shone out of his ass. They’d only met the one time, at their read through with the producers. Jensen had seemed kind of reserved then, but Jared's nerves, and therefore his mouth, had been running riot on sugar and caffeine so it was possible that Ackles just hadn't managed to squeeze a word in edgewise.

This time around Jared had at least not eaten his way through a packet of twizzlers before turning up for their meeting. He had, however, ordered a Mocha Frappuccino with whipped cream. That, in retrospect, maybe hadn't been the wisest idea.

Jared checked the time on his phone again before looking up at the door. Still no sign of Ackles. Admittedly, Jared had arrived early, mainly because Sandy had kicked his restless ass out of the apartment after he'd changed his shirt for the fourth time. “Good Lord, Jared,” she’d said tersely. “It’s not a first date, just coffee with your new co-star. Chill out."

Jared looked at the time again, took a deep breath and tried to take her sensible advice and chill. He didn't know much about Jensen Ackles. He'd kind of recognized the name when they were first introduced. Thought he'd possibly acted in one of his grandma's favorite soaps. Maybe worked with some of Chad's friends too. Obviously, after finding out for sure they'd both gotten offered the pilot, Jared had googled the hell out of him. And maybe asked around a little. He'd heard varying things: stuck up asshole, downright unsociable, a vapid little twink, maybe a little shy, and, a fucking awesome dude. 

It was just as well that Jared preferred to form his own opinions.

In the end, Jared missed Jensen walking in the door, too busy shredding his paper table napkin into tiny pieces and silently reciting Pi to himself in an effort to control his nerves. By the time Jared spotted him, Jensen was at the counter ordering his own drink. It hit Jared all over again just how good looking the guy was. 

Jared was reasonably confident in his own attractiveness. Plenty of people told him he was handsome, and the parts he won were usually cute boyfriend roles which didn't hurt his ego. But Jensen Ackles; he was a whole new level of handsome. The guy looked like he should have been a model with his perfect jawline and high cheekbones, although, he _was_ on the short side. Well, on the Padalecki height chart anyway. And his legs were kind of bowed too. He reminded Jared a little of a cowboy, especially with the good-ole Texan drawl he hadn't completely hidden. 

Jared watched as the barista flirted with Jensen, smiling her expensive white teeth and laughing at something he said when he handed over his cash. The customers waiting behind didn't seem particularly impressed at the attention she was showering him with. Especially a broad-shouldered guy half way down the line. He was scowling so hard at the girl, Jared half-expected her to burst into flames.

Jensen's gaze roamed over the tables while he waited for his drink. He smiled when Jared raised his hand in a dorky wave, and much to Jared's relief gave an equally dorky wave back. The girl behind the counter kept glancing up at Ackles the whole time, a blush high on her cheeks that didn't come from the heat of the coffee machines. 

Jared took another sip of his sugary drink, careful to wipe his lip with a napkin afterwards. He didn't want to be the idiot with a whipped cream moustache. That was a first date mistake you only made once. Or twice. Not that this was a first date. Or a date at all! Even if Jared’s stomach was doing all kinds of weird tumbling tricks. 

Having finally collected his drink, Jensen turned to walk towards Jared, not even stopping for sugar or flavorings, the weirdo, and almost crashed straight into the guy who'd been a few places behind him in line. To be fair to Jensen, the guy was as broad as the wide-side of a barn, and had planted himself right in Jensen's path. Steaming coffee sluiced over the side of Jensen's mug, dribbling over his fingers. Jared winced in sympathy; it looked like Jensen took his coffee black and that shit had to burn. But Jensen barely seemed to notice. His eyes widening and then immediately narrowing at the guy whose expensive suit was also now spotted with coffee. 

Lip reading was not one of Jared's talents so he wasn't sure what words were exchanged between the two men, but neither of them appeared happy. Jensen's eyes flickered across to Jared and snapped away again, a deep red flush crawling up his neck.

Jared watched Jensen take a step back, then a step to the side, the awkward dance an attempt to set some distance in between himself and suit-guy.

Suit-guy was insistent though, his hand snapping out, fingers wrapping around Jensen's wrist. Jared jumped to his feet, the decision to intervene instinctual rather than considered. His chair legs scraped against the floor, and Jensen and suit-guy both turned his way at the grating screech. Jared puffed out his chest, and flexed his fingers before bunching them into fists. Jensen, jaw clenched and spine rigid, sharply shook off suit-guy’s hand and stormed away.

"Hey," Jensen said tightly, setting his cup down across from Jared's, his back turned, uncaring, towards suit-guy who had barged back into line and was now barking an order at the poor barista. "Nice to see you again."

"Are you okay?" Jared asked, skipping the niceties. "What was that asshole’s problem?"

"I'm fine." Jensen said, rubbing absently at the red marks scalded across his fingers. "And I'm a grown man, thanks. I can fight my own battles. I don't need another he-man barging in to save me like I'm some damsel in distress."

"What? That’s not... shit...” Jared nervously tugged on his beanie. Jensen looked pissed. This wasn't how Jared wanted to kick off their relationship. If the pilot got picked up, they could be working together for most of the year. It would be beyond awkward if Jensen thought he was some kind of Neanderthal. "I’m sorry, man. I just… that guy looked like he could bench press a truck. I didn't want my new co-star getting flattened before we even start filming."

Jensen smiled, still a bit frosty, but he dragged the chair out opposite Jared and sat down. "I guess it would be a pain in the ass if you had to read again with someone new, huh?”

Jared sat back down too, watching out the corner of his eye as suit-guy collected his coffee then growled at a kid at a nearby table to make room for him. He really was a dick. Jared forced out a breath and smiled wide at Jensen. "Shit yeah, it would. And Kripke's head might actually explode. Dude is intense."

"Yeah," Jensen agreed, smiling for real this time. "He's seriously excited about this project. I thought he was gonna combust when we read together that first time."

"You totally killed it, man," Jared said, trying and failing not to sound like an over enthusiastic fan boy. "Your Dean was so freaking cool. But kind of vulnerable too. It was awesome to watch you bring him to life like that."

"Yeah?" Jensen asked. And Jared would have thought someone as talented as Jensen would be used to getting compliments, but the blush heating his cheeks suggested otherwise. "Thanks. Your Sam was pretty great too. I think these guys could be fun to play. So much scope, you know? All that backstory, and history between them."

Twenty minutes later, Jared was even more excited about working on the show. He was almost bouncing off his seat with manic energy. Jensen was nothing like he'd expected. Half-dreaded in all honesty. He definitely wasn't stuck up, or an asshole. If anything, he was a bit bashful, understated. He wasn’t nearly as exuberant as Jared, but he had a wicked sense of humor that had Jared almost spraying the table with his coffee more than once.

"This is gonna be awesome man," Jared raved. "I really hope we get picked up."

"We haven't even filmed the pilot yet." Jensen laughed warmly, eyes crinkling at the corners just a little. "Maybe you should wait and see how that goes."

"Are you kidding me? We're gonna kill it. Nah, the only question is, are we going to freeze our balls off shooting in Vancouver?" 

Jensen smiled and shook his head. "It’s not that bad."

"You worked up there before?" 

"Yeah, Dark Angel was filmed up there and Smallville too.

Jared smacked his forehead. "Of course. Welling and Rosenbaum, right? Kristin Kreuk and… shit, I can't remember the other girls’ names, but they're all pretty hot. I bet that was fun."

"Yeah," Jensen agreed softly. "They're a good bunch for sure."

"And Jane Seymour played your mom, right? Man, I used to have a crush on her when I was a kid. Fucking James Bond. Solitaire, she was a babe. And Doctor Quinn medicine woman. That's probably a bit of a weird crush. But hell, she's still sexy right?"

Jensen coughed awkwardly, tugging at the collar of his shirt. 

"Sorry, man. Sandy always accuses me of over sharing. Just tell me to shut the hell up if I say something that makes you uncomfortable." Jared knew he was letting his mouth run riot, just like he promised himself he wouldn't. But it wasn't often he felt so damn comfortable with someone he'd only just met. "Hey, what do you say we grab a beer. There's a bar just up the street that does awesome nachos. You in?"

Jensen sat back in his chair, eyes flickering to the side before focusing on Jared again. “I… I guess that would be okay."

Maybe Jared had misread things. Maybe he was the only one feeling comfortable. "I'm sorry, man. Of course you don't have to. I'm sure you've got something else you should be doing."

"No.” Jensen reached across the table, steadying Jared's fingers where they were absently destroying another napkin. Jensen snatched his hand back just as quickly, but the brief contact was enough to soothe Jared's flustered nerves. "No, I'd like that." 

"You sure?" Jared asked. "I know I can get carried away."

"Beer and nachos sound great, Jared." Jensen smiled, honest and small, and scratched at the back of his neck. "It's weird. I can't usually talk to people so easily."

"Dude, I can talk to anyone. About anything. It's like my special gift. It's shutting me up that's the problem." Jared grinned so Jensen knew he was joking, although… he really wasn't. "So, you want to go now?"

"Just let me run to the men's room first," Jensen said, draining the last of his coffee in one quick gulp and standing up. "And then I'm good to go."

Jared took out his cell and sent Sandy a quick message letting her know things were going well and he wouldn't be home until later, then sat back and waited for Jensen to return. The jerk guy from earlier must have left at some point, his table was now empty. Jared hadn't noticed him go, but then he'd been focused pretty intently on Jensen. 

After a couple of minutes, and no reply from Sandy, Jared shifted restlessly in his seat and figured he might as well go to the bathroom too, his bladder was suddenly feeling the effects of his huge mug of coffee. Hopefully Jensen wouldn't think Jared was stalking him. 

Jensen wasn’t in the men’s room. Jared pissed and washed his hands, took a quick —non-creepy— look behind him at the stalls. They were all definitely empty. Something about the situation made Jared uneasy. Jensen wouldn’t have just disappeared. And then there was the guy from earlier who’d been up in Jensen’s face. What if the guy was a psycho? What if he was holding some kind of grudge against Jensen? Jared shook his head. He was letting his imagination run riot. 

He headed back to their table, telling himself Jensen would be sitting there wondering where the hell Jared had gotten to. He wasn’t.

Feeling a little ridiculous and uncomfortably like a ditched first-date, Jared headed back to the small hallway where the bathrooms were. There were a couple of other doors marked staff only. And a more solid door at the end of the hallway that obviously led outside. After a furtive glance around, he pushed open the outside door. He stilled immediately when he heard Jensen's voice.

"I can't believe you turned up here!"

"Come on, Jensen, can you blame me?"

"I told you where I was going. Who I was meeting. I don't know what your damn problem is."

Jared knew he was eavesdropping on a private conversation. He knew he should go back inside and wait for Jensen. He didn't move. Instead, he stood in the half-opened doorway, breath caught in his throat. 

"You don't know what the problem is? Seriously? I saw you. Sitting with that floppy-haired asshole. He was all over you."

"Jesus Christ, Frank," Jensen said, voice tight with frustration. "He was not. I told you, I'm going to be working with the kid. He's got a girlfriend for fuck's sake."

"He was looking at you with goddamn hearts in his eyes. You must think I'm an idiot, Jensen."

"Honestly, I think you're fucking insane."

"Hey, I'm just trying to look out for you. Like I always do."

"Well, I've had enough.” Jensen snapped. "Screw this. Screw you. We're over. For good this time." 

"You don't mean that, Jensen. You never do." 

"I do, Frank. This time, I _really_ do. I'm tired of this possessive bullshit. Of trying to keep you happy all the time."

"Babe—"

"Don’t fucking babe me. I'll be around later to pick up my shit."

"Jensen, don't be ridiculous."

"Get your fucking hands off me, Frank. I swear to god."

Jared twitched where he stood hidden behind the half open door. 

"Jesus, calm down. You're such a fucking drama queen."

"If you don't get your hands off me right now, I'll— “

"You'll what?" The tone of the other voice, Frank's voice, changed. The pitch dropping. Cajoling giving way to threatening. "What you gonna do, Jensen? Call your buddy Kane? Except he's not an unemployed piece of shit loser like you is he, princess? He's actually working. Not gonna be able to run back from Nashville to defend your honor this time, is he?"

"I don't need Kane to kick your ass for me." Jensen didn't sound as confident as his reply suggested. Jared could hear a nervous undercurrent rippling just below the surface of his bitten-out words.

Frank snorted. "You really are a dumb blond aren't you, baby. Now be a good boy and come on home with me."

"Fuck you, Frank,” Jensen hissed. Then let out a pained grunt. Like he'd just been punched.

Jared didn't even stop to think about it. He stepped out from behind the door. Six feet down the alleyway, Jensen was doubled over, holding his belly. Suit-guy from earlier standing over him. 

"Hey, what the fuck do you think you're doing? Get the hell away from him," Jared yelled, striding towards them. 

Suit-guy looked up, mouth twisting in a sneer. "Mind your own damn business, kid."

"You being a dickhead is my business." 

"Jared, it's fine. Go back inside." Jensen wheezed, straightening up.

Suit-guy, Frank —and apparently if Jared was reading it right, Jensen’s boyfriend— turned to Jared, stepping purposeful between him and Jensen. "You heard him; go on back inside. In fact, just go home. Jensen's done here."

"No, Frank.” Jensen scowled, straightening up. " _We’re_ done. I'll be there in a minute, Jared."

"Jensen," Frank warned, grabbing Jensen's arm.

Jensen winced. Jared tensed. 

"We're done, Frank,” Jensen reiterated, tugging his arm free.

"We're done when I say we're done," Frank snarled, shoving Jensen hard against the wall. 

Jared couldn't believe anyone would be so idiotic. Or so blatantly abusive in public. "Get the fuck off him." 

"Butt out, buddy, this is none of your business,” Frank growled, poking Jared hard in the chest. As if Jared wasn't already pissed enough.

"Leave him alone." Jensen grabbed Frank's arm, dragging him away from Jared, or trying to at least. Frank shrugged Jensen off, elbowing him in the mouth as he did it. Jared saw red. Threw back his arm and punched the asshole right in the face. Despite his size, Jared wasn't one for fighting, he was more of a make a joke and retreat type of guy, but he had to admit landing that punch felt incredibly satisfying. 

"Goddamnit!" Frank's hand flew up to his mouth, and came away bloody to his apparent astonishment. Under other circumstances Jared might have quaked under the burning glare Frank aimed his way. This time, he shook out his hand and glared right on back. Then let out a surprised 'oof' as Frank charged him, knocking him on his ass. Dude was built like a concrete wall.

The ensuing scuffle was short-lived and far from Jared's classiest moment. But he gave as good as he got. And survived with his face intact. If not his manly pride.

"Jesus Christ," Jensen yelled, yanking Frank backwards by the collar of his suit jacket. "Leave him alone you dumb motherfucking shithead."

Jared pushed himself up to his elbows and tried not to puke when his ribs protested the movement. Frank lurched to his feet, immediately crowding Jensen against the side of the building. Jensen scowled up at him, anger glittering in his eyes. "Get the fuck out of here before someone calls the cops. Before I call the cops."

"You wouldn't dare," Frank sneered.

"Maybe not,” Jared interjected, climbing stiffly to his feet. "But I would." He dug in his pocket and produced his cellphone to prove his point.

Frank narrowed his eyes at Jared trying to read him. Jared didn't flinch. "Fine." He eventually snarled at Jensen, poking him in the chest before finally taking a step backwards. "I don't even know why I'm bothering. You're not worth the fucking hassle, Jensen. I could pick up a two-dollar whore that'd be more exciting in the sack than you."

"And I'm sure you will,” Jensen sniped back. "Maybe if you pay them enough they won't even complain about your tiny dick. All those fucking steroids really aren't doing you any favors."

_Ouch,_ thought Jared, automatically looking down at Frank’s crotch despite himself; that was hitting the guy right where it hurt. When he glanced back up, Frank’s face had turned a disturbingly vivid shade of purple. Jared stepped forward brandishing his cellphone like a weapon. Frank growled at Jensen, teeth bared like a wild dog, then he spat a frothing gob of saliva right on Jensen's shoes. "Fucking bitch."

Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, Frank turned to Jared. "You're welcome to the dumb slut. He might be pretty but his cocksucking lips aren't worth this shit."

Jared watched him walk away, heart hammering in his chest, adrenaline still rushing through his veins. 

"I'm sorry."

Jared's head snapped back around towards Jensen.

"Christ, I'm so goddamn sorry."

The color had drained from Jensen’s face. Jared had never seen anyone still standing look so grey. 

"You must think that I... _fuck_!" Jensen knocked his head back against the wall hard enough to make Jared wince. "I'm sorry, Jared. You shouldn't have had to jump in like that. I should have..."

"Hey," Jared said. "It's fine. That wasn't your fault."

Jensen looked at him incredulously. 

"It's not." Jared insisted. 

"He's not... I mean, he didn't _use_ to be like that. When we first..." Jensen slammed his head back against the wall again. The mottled flush crawling up his pale neck didn't make him look any healthier, more like a kid that was about to puke up his lunch. 

Jensen sucked in an unsteady gulp of air, staring at the mess on his boots rather than looking Jared in the eye. "So, I guess you figured out that I'm... that I..."

"That you have terrible taste in men?" Jared supplied helpfully, glossing over the whole big gay thing he'd presumed Jensen was about to confess. Because the thing was, Jared didn't care. He cared that a guy who seemed as nice as Jensen had managed to wind up with an abusive dick of a boyfriend. But he didn't care that he _had_ a boyfriend. It wasn't any of his business. It wasn't anyone's business. 

Jensen dragged his bottom lip into his mouth and chewed on it nervously before finally tipping up his chin and looking Jared in the face, vulnerability bleeding from his eyes. Jared smiled and shrugged. "Come on, let's go for that beer."

"You still want to? Go for a beer, with me?"

"Course I do," Jared said. "Unless you want to go home and grab your stuff before that asshole burns it or something."

"No, it’s not like I live with him,” Jensen said. Jared found himself immeasurably relieved to hear that. "And I didn't keep anything important at his place. Not really. Nothing I can't replace."

"Awesome," Jared said, looping his arm around Jensen's shoulders and pretending not to notice the way Jensen's muscles instinctively tensed. "Come on, we'll grab a cold one and I'll tell you about some of my exes. Seriously man, a couple of them almost make that douchebag look sane."

Jensen gradually relaxed under the weight of Jared's arm and let himself be led out of the back alley and into the Main Street. 

"And Chad's ex-girlfriends," Jared continued. "I've enough stories about them to last until we get to Vancouver."

"Chad?" 

"My weird friend," Jared said. "We all have one, right? The friend that you have to bail out of jail in the middle of the night because he's been arrested for public nudity and making out with a giant gnome."

"I had to bail out Chris once for punching a raccoon in the face."

"See," Jared nodded, sagely. "We all have a Chad. He had this one girlfriend...”

Sometimes, Jared mused a little later as Jensen giggled, drunk and relaxed by his side, all thoughts of psycho boyfriends wiped from his mind, Chad had his uses. Not that he'd ever confess that to Chad.


	5. FIVE - JEFF

What Jeff really wanted to be doing right now was relaxing in his hotel room with a decent glass of wine, a club sandwich with extra bacon, garlic fries, and blessed silence. Or failing that, just a firm mattress and a solid ten hours sleep.

Instead, he was in the middle of a Vancouver bar surrounded by the craziest group of people he'd had the good fortune to work with lately. Life could certainly be worse.

"Hey Pops, you still awake?" Jared dropped down into the chair beside Jeff. 

"You realize I'm not actually old enough to be your dad, don't you kid?" Jeff said with a sigh. He was starting to feel ancient working with these boys. And all the dad jokes weren't helping. "Where's your better half?" He asked, changing the subject neatly before Jared had a chance to work out the math. 

"Jensen?" Jared asked, looking around as if expecting the guy to pop out of thin air at the mention of his name. "I'm not sure. He went to the bar for more drinks earlier. Maybe I should go and see if he's okay."

Jeff shook his head and laughed. "Relax kid, Jensen's a big boy, I'm sure he's fine. And I actually meant your girl. I thought Sandy was here for the week."

Jared's cheeks, already flushed from the drink and heat, burned just a little brighter. He pointed towards a table crowded with people in the center of the room. "She's over there. Talking to Jeannie. About weddings. I thought I'd make a tactical withdrawal."

Jeff snorted and took a sip of his whisky, humming in appreciation as the reassuringly expensive Glen Morangie slid over his tongue, smooth and warming. "You gonna ask her? To marry you?"

Jared shrugged and looked back over his shoulder. "She wants to, I guess. But I dunno. We're still pretty young."

"Yeah, you are," Jeff agreed easily. And took another sip of whisky. To be honest, he'd been surprised to discover that Jared had a girlfriend. Not because the guy wasn't a great catch, but the first time Jeff had been on set, he'd figured that Jared and Jensen were together. Or on their way to getting together. The pair of them had a chemistry that was worth millions. They flirted as easily as they breathed. And spent all their time together. The one time that Jeff had seen someone trying to hit on Jensen, Jared had all but run them off with a shotgun. But then again, Jeff had been exhausted that week, like the walking dead, so it was possible he'd been hallucinating. 

Anyway, Jared apparently did have a girlfriend. And she was sweet. If a little pushy. "It can't be easy doing this long-distance romance thing either." 

"I guess," Jared said, not seeming particularly troubled by it. "But we're so damn busy up here, y'know. It's not like we have time to mope." 

Jeff understood that. The hours these guys put in were nuts. "What are the suits saying about you guys getting picked up for next year?" 

Jared's dimpled smile dropped for the first time. "They're keeping kind of quiet. Erik seems to think we're doing alright, but you know what the networks are like with genre shows like Supernatural; not exactly supportive. God, I'll be gutted if we don't get another season. This show is the best thing I've ever done. I love working on it."

"It's a great group of people," Jeff agreed. 

"It really is." Jared's smile was back in full force. "The crew are awesome. I mean Erik's crazy but he's brilliant. And Kim and Bob are just so damn easy to work with."

"And your co-stars?" Jeff winked.

"Well, the guy that plays my dad is kind of a dick but—"

Jeff kicked Jared's shin under the table.

"But," Jared carried on with a laugh. "Most of the guest actors have been great. Adrianne was a riot, Nicki too."

"And Jensen," Jeff prodded, curious. 

"Jensen's incredible." Jared beamed. And there it was; pure unadulterated adoration. Jeff knew he hadn't imagined the flirting. "He's a fantastic actor. Seriously, he steals every damn scene. I'd hate him but he doesn't even know he's doing it. And he's sharp and funny. And hilariously grouchy before he gets his coffee in the morning. Honestly man, I love him."

"Hey, baby." Jeff looked around at the sound of Sandy’s honey-smooth voice, to see her standing behind the table. "I was wondering where you'd run off to." 

There was a tightness around her eyes that Jeff figured meant she'd heard some of that conversation. And hadn't much liked it. 

"Sorry, darlin'." Jared smiled sheepishly. "Just making sure Daddy Winchester wasn't getting lonely."

"Actually." Jeff stood up, anxious not to find himself in the middle of a lover's tiff. "I'm just gonna hit the head, so he's all yours Sandy."

Jared flicked Jeff a betrayed look and shifted uneasily under the weight of Sandy's polite smile. Jeff winked at him with all the compassion of a happily single man and headed straight towards the bar. Nodding at the bartender, Jeff ordered one last drink, glancing back over his shoulder to see Jared and Sandy having a rather intense conversation. He wondered if Jared knew that he lit up like a Fourth of July firework whenever he talked about Jensen. He’d lay money on the fact that Sandy had noticed. 

Talking of Jensen, Jeff spotted him for the first time in thirty minutes, leaning heavily against the end of the bar, some guy Jeff didn't recognize pushing a drink towards him. Not that it looked like Jensen needed another drink. But hell, Jeff wasn't actually his dad, if the kid wanted to get trashed it wasn't any of his business. Shoving his money across the bar, Jeff pointedly looked away, and took a sip of his own drink. Somehow though, his attention just kept drifting back towards Jensen. And the guy who's shoulder he was listing against increasingly heavier.

There was something about the picture that seemed off to Jeff. Maybe it was just how drunk Jensen was. Especially considering that they were all working the next day, not an early call time thankfully, but still, it wasn't like Jensen to be anything but totally professional on set. A hangover didn't scream professional. Or maybe what was bothering Jeff was the way Jensen was letting some guy paw at him in public. Not that Jeff thought there was anything wrong with that. Far from it. But, from what he knew of Jensen, the kid was pretty shy and usually painfully discreet about his sexuality.

Tucked away in the almost-shadows at the end of the dimly lit bar it seemed that Jensen was hidden a little too well from his friends and colleagues. No-one seemed to have noticed his out-of-character behaviour or sluggish slump. Not even Jared who had Sandy on his lap, staking her claim in smeared scarlet kisses. 

Jeff downed the last of his drink, shook his head at the approaching bartender, took a deep breath and strolled, hands in his pockets, down to where Jensen was sitting. "Hey kid, how you doing there?"

Jensen looked up with a lazy head roll, pupils huge in his glassy eyes, smile sloppy and lopsided. "Jeff, hey! You having fun, man?"

"Sure I am. Not as much as you by the look of things though,” Jeff said, not missing the stabbing glare Jensen's friend was shooting him, or the possessive hand he'd draped around Jensen's waist. 

"Nah, I'm fine,” Jensen slurred. "Just had a few beers with my friend here." 

"Your friend, huh? You gonna introduce us?"

"What? Huh, yeah 'f course." Jensen swayed unsteadily on his feet. "Jeff this is... this is... uh..."

"James," the other guy supplied, unfazed at Jensen forgetting his name. Alarm bells blared loud and insistent in Jeff's ear now. 

"James," Jensen repeated. "James this is Jeff. My dad."

"Your dad?" James' glower gave way to puzzlement and then uncertainty. Jeff almost found himself dropping into the role of John Winchester in response. His spine straightening and jaw clenching. 

Jensen snorted, unaware of James and Jeff silently sizing each other up. "S'not not really my dad, just plays him. S,right Jeff huh?"

"Yeah, kiddo, it sure is,” Jeff admitted. "Hey, so I was thinking about heading on back to the hotel, grabbing a few hours’ sleep before we have to be on set tomorrow. You want to share a cab with me?"

"Hmm." Jensen seemed to think about it, his body weight shifting towards Jeff, but just when Jeff thought he might be able to walk him out of the bar without any fuss, James tugged Jensen back against his side.

"Actually, we were just leaving ourselves."

Jeff narrowed his eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah." James stuck his chin out bullishly. "Really."

"Because Jensen isn't usually the kind of guy that leaves bars with strangers. Especially not when he's working the next day."

Jensen watched the exchange with wide eyes. 

"Look dude," James hissed. "Back the hell off. Jensen's a big boy, he can do whatever the hell he wants. And tonight he wants me. We’re leaving. Come on, Jensen." James started to walk away, dragging Jensen along with him.

Jensen shot Jeff a confused look and tripped over his feet, only James' arm around his waist keeping him upright.

"I don't think so," Jeff growled, the timbre of his voice dropping to John Winchester levels of threatening. "If you think I'm going to let you haul him out of here when he barely knows who the fuck he is, you're even dumber than you look. What did you put in his drink?"

"Nothing." James scowled, his eyes shifting nervously around their corner of the bar. "He's fine. Just a little drunk."

"What's happening, Jeff?" Jensen asked swaying unsteadily on his feet and doing nothing to back up James' claim or assuage Jeff's worries.

Jeff kept his voice low, not wanting to create a scene. Jensen would hate that. "He's fucking wasted, you sleazy bastard. Now let him go and walk away."

"Or what?" James sneered, tightening his grip on Jensen when the kid tried to pull away. 

"Or I'll let the rest of the bar know that you've roofied his dumb ass. And trust me, asshole, you won't like what they do to you. Especially not his six-and-a-half-foot giant of a best friend."

"Jared," Jensen suddenly piped up, slapping James' hands away from him. "Gonna find Jared. Think I need to go home."

"Yeah, you do kid,” Jeff agreed, taking the opportunity to grab Jensen's arm, tugging him backwards so James would have to go through Jeff to get to him. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

"Jensen, come on baby," James wheedled, reluctant to give up. He was either dense or stubborn as a goddamn goat.

"Last warning," Jeff growled, ramming his finger against the center of the guy's chest. "Get the fuck out of here."

"Hey, Jeff." Jeff nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand slapped down on his shoulder. "Everything alright here?"

Kim Manners. The guy was as laid-back as they came but he could look like a mean son-of-a-bitch if he tried. 

By the sour expression on James’ face, Jeff guessed Kim was trying. He didn’t turn around to see for himself. Instead, he stared James down as he replied, stonily, "Jensen's pretty tired, I was just gonna get a cab back to the hotel with him.”

This time, thank God, James finally backed off, scowling like a petulant fifteen-year-old as he stormed away. 

"Thanks, Kim.” Jeff sighed in relief. “That asshole was trying my patience.”

"No problem. Is Jensen alright? The kid looks almost asleep on his feet."

Sure enough, now that the excitement was over Jensen was having trouble keeping his eyes open, his body growing increasingly slack against Jeff’s side. Fuck only knows what would have happened if he'd left with James, the kid probably would have passed out by the time they hit the alley. Jeff had a sickening suspicion that’s what James was counting on.

Kim discreetly helped Jeff walk Jensen out of the bar. They didn’t garner much more attention than a few hollered ‘good nights’. Jared was nowhere in sight.

The cold Vancouver air did its best to wake Jensen, leaving him shivering in Jeff's arms as he and Kim spooned him into the back of a cab, reassuring the driver that Jensen wasn't about to puke over the interior of his car. Jeff hoped they weren't lying, and made sure to crack the window and let the frosty night do its best to keep the kid awake.

For a fleeting moment, Jeff thought about taking Jensen to a hospital to find out what the hell that asshole had roofied his drink with, but Jensen's breathing was solid and even. Sleep and plenty of water were probably the only things he needed. 

Once they got back to the hotel, Jeff steered Jensen to his room rather than Jensen's. Because Christ knows he didn't want Jensen to end up another tragic story. Choking on your puke wasn't a glamorous way to go, no matter the precedents set.

Ignoring Jensen's mumbled complaints, Jeff manhandled him into the bathroom, and bullied him into taking a cool shower. He went as far as helping Jensen untie his laces, take off his boots and socks, and even his shirt but he pushed the kid into the shower stall once he'd clumsily stripped down to his boxers. Jeff was a gentleman but he wasn't a saint, and that boy could tempt angels. 

Thankfully, Jensen made it out of the shower and the bathroom under his own steam, a towel wrapped around his waist and the glassy sheen in his eyes replaced by red-tinged embarrassment. "God, Jeff, I'm sorry."

"You've nothing to be sorry for, kid," Jeff said, walking through to the bedroom, looking back pointedly at Jensen until he followed. "C'mon you can borrow some sweats and then get your head down." Jeff rummaged through his half-packed suitcase and tossed Jensen a tee and a pair of soft sweatpants.

"Jeff, I'm fine." Jensen leaned back against the wall as he spoke, kitten weak. "I'll just head back to my room and—"

"Jensen," Jeff said, patiently, "I'm not letting you spend the night on your own. I'm gonna grab you some water. Get changed and get into bed."

"But," Jensen protested, though the exhaustion was bleeding from his pores. 

"I ain't arguing, kiddo," Jeff called back over his shoulder as he walked through to the tiny kitchenette in his suite. "Do me a favor and just do what you're told for once."

By the time he walked back through to the bedroom, a glass of cold water in his hand, Jensen was climbing into bed. "Here you go," Jeff said, passing Jensen the glass. "How you feeling?"

"Stupid," Jensen replied immediately, taking the glass of water with trembling fingers. "And kind of woozy. Thanks for hauling me out of there."

"Of course," Jeff said. "I'd do the same for anyone."

"Anyone stupid enough to get themselves roofied. Fuck, I'm such an idiot." Jensen thumped his head back against the headboard, eyes closed and hands shaking. 

"Hey," Jeff said, worry sharpening his tone. "Don't talk about yourself like that."

"I am though," Jensen argued, setting the glass down on the table beside the bed, splashed water droplets running down his knuckles. "I'm twenty-seven years old; I'm not a clueless kid anymore. I should be able to look after myself. I should be able to watch my own fucking drink. I shouldn't need anyone swooping in to rescue me.”

"Jensen, everyone makes mistakes. Stop beating yourself up." 

"But I make so goddamn many of them, Jeff. One after another. I'm a fuck-up. A screwed in the head fuck-up. You know why I was drinking with that guy? Because I was hiding."

Jensen smacked his head backwards again. Jeff cringed but stayed silent. Jensen obviously needed to vent. And maybe the drink and whatever the hell had been in it was loosening his tongue, and maybe Jeff should stop him, but the kid was always so tightly held together on set with his perfect manners and compulsion to please. 

"Twenty-seven years old and hiding from my best friend and his girlfriend," Jensen continued, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Jesus. What a fucking loser."

"Why?" Jeff asked softly, fingers curling around Jensen's wrist and gently prying his hands away from his face. "Why were you hiding from Jared?"

Jensen looked up at him, devastation pouring from him in fat tear drops. "Because I couldn't watch them together. Because every time he looked at her, I wanted to fucking throw-up. Because I'm... Because I'm... "

"Because you're in love with him?" Jeff finished. Because of course he was. Because anyone with eyes could see that. Apart from Padalecki.

Jensen nodded wordlessly and let the tears fall. Jeff's heart ached for him. He sat down right on the edge of the bed, knees twinging at the awkward angle, and pulled Jensen into a hug, fully expecting Jensen to stiffen in his arms and brush him off, instead he all but slumped against Jeff's chest, shoulder's shaking and breath escaping in desolate gasps. Jeff held him until his sobs turned into hitched breaths then turned into soft sleeping huffs. 


	6. AND ONE - JENSEN

"Weird how?" Chris asked.

"Just freaking weird," Jensen said, sinking down onto the sofa in his trailer, phone in one hand and rapidly cooling coffee in the other. 

"Yeah, that's helpful, Jen. Real enlightening. I thought you said everything was cool between you and Morgan."

"Yeah, it is." Jensen took another sip of his coffee, and rolled some of the tension out of his shoulders.

Embarrassed didn't even begin to cover how Jensen had felt two days ago when he’d woken up in Jeff's bed, eyes sore, head pounding and whisky-sour morning breath thick on his tongue. Unfortunately, the liquor and drugs combination that contributed so disastrously to his meltdown had done nothing to blur his memories of the previous night. Everything he'd said to Jeff, all the tears he'd cried, the way he clung to him like a freaking limpet, it had all come rushing back to Jensen with a cold smack of humiliating clarity the second he'd opened his eyes. 

Luckily Jeff had still been sound asleep at that point despite the not particularly early hour, lying fully clothed on top of the bedcovers about a foot away from Jensen. Thank god for super-sized hotel beds, or Jeff would have ended up on the floor with the distance he was obviously trying to maintain between them. 

He'd probably thought Jensen would wake up and freak out about Jeff lying beside him. Like Jensen was some kind of delicate flower that needed to be handled with kid gloves. Jensen had snuck out of that hotel room feeling sick to his stomach, absolutely convinced that he'd never be able to look Jeff in the eyes again. 

But somehow, when he'd bumped into Jeff on set a few hours later, it had been business as usual. Jeff, god bless him, had ignored Jensen's embarrassed stuttering and pink-eared unease, clapped him on the shoulder, warm, heavy and for a reassuring beat longer than normal, then asked him why the fuck they had to shoot in the middle of winter in Vancouver and where the fuck was the decent coffee. Jensen kind of loved Jeff a little.

"So, what's the problem then?" Chris pushed. "He's not being _too_ friendly, is he? You need me to come up there and..."

"Jesus Christ, Chris, no. It's nothing like that. And I can look after myself thanks very much."

"Yeah, that's what you said when Weatherly started his crap."

"Chris!"

Chris sighed through the phone. Jensen could picture the frustrated pinch between his eyes. "Fine, fine. You're a grown man. You can look after yourself. What-the-fuck-ever. I get it. So why the hell are you calling me to whine?"

"I'm not whining." Jensen did not whine. "I'm just saying. It's getting really fucking weird around here. I mean since the other night Jeff's been cool, y'know, like he normally is. With me. But him and Jared. Shit, they can't be in the same room without pissing each other off."

"Jared? I didn't think he did pissed off. That boy's all floppy hair and good intentions."

Yeah, that's what Jensen thought until lately. Turns out there's more to Jared than dimpled grins and twizzler-fuelled pranks.

"I swear to God he almost punched Jeff while we filming last night," Jensen explained, not quite believing it himself. "I mean, I know Sam and John are supposed to be at loggerheads, but it wasn't in the script for Sam to take a swing. If I hadn't grabbed him, he'd have given Jeff a hell of a black eye."

"You sure your boy's not doing a Brando?"

Jensen chuckled. "No, that wasn't method acting, man. It wasn't Sam Winchester swinging, that was all Jared. And Jeff's been almost as bad. I mean he hasn't tried to punch Jay, but there's definitely some weird tension between the two of them."

Chris coughed awkwardly, hesitating for a second before he asked, "sexual tension?"

"No!" Jensen barked, almost choking on his coffee. "What? No. Just. No."

"Are you sure?" Chris prodded. "Cause it sounds kind of like—"

Jensen wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "No Chris. No. They're both straight. I'm sure. Jared definitely is. And he has Sandy."

"Well, I'm just saying, it wouldn't be the first time that co-stars fighting turned out to be some kind of bizarre foreplay."

And while Jensen knew all too well that was true, he didn't even want to consider that was the case here. Not between Jeff and Jared. Not when Jeff knew how Jensen felt. About Jared. Jeff wouldn't do that to him. 

"Five minutes, Jensen!" A sharp knock on his trailer door jolted Jensen out of his spiraling thoughts. "I've gotta go, Chris."

"Sure thing. Oh, and Jensen? Feel free to call Steve next time you need one of these girlie chit-chats."

"Fuck you very much, dickhead." Jensen grinned, snapping shut his cellphone and cutting off Chris's snigger. He did feel better for talking to Kane, even if the asshole hadn't been much help. Maybe Jensen was overreacting. Draining the last of his coffee, he grabbed his jacket and prepared to face the chilled Vancouver night and his crazy co-stars. 

It was freaking freezing outside. The cold air hit Jensen as soon as he opened his trailer door, biting at the tips of his ears and fogging his breath. It had been a bad move to step into the freezing Vancouver night without being safely zipped inside his ridiculously puffy coat. Hurriedly shrugging into his jacket while walking down the steps and juggling his cellphone however proved to be overreaching on Jensen's part. If it wasn't for Jeff walking by at the right time Jensen would have ended up on either his ass or his face at the bottom of the trailer steps. 

Jensen didn't have Dean's lightning reflexes that was for damn sure. 

"Oof," Jensen grunted, nose colliding with Jeff's chest. 

"Jesus, kid," Jeff chuckled, holding Jensen's shoulders until he was steady on his feet. "You trying to kill yourself?"

"God, I miss Texas.” Jensen grinned up at him. At least his embarrassed flush warmed his cheeks a little. 

"Yeah, those Canadian steps sure can be tricky," Jeff laughed, not unkindly, clapping Jensen on the back. 

"Hey, you guys coming or what?" 

Jensen almost fell over again when Jared appeared like a silent Sasquatch-sized ninja behind Jeff. His face, what Jensen could see of it hidden inside the shadowed hood of his jacket, looked thunderous. 

"Sure," Jensen smiled wanly. "We were just—"

"Yeah, I saw what you were _just_ doing," Jared snapped, glaring daggers at Jeff, his usual good humor noticeably absent. Jensen didn't know whether to be worried about Jared or mad at him. Seriously, the dude was acting like a dick all of a sudden. If Jensen wasn't so hung up on the asshole, he'd want to... to... eat all his twizzlers or something equally diabolical. Hmm, he wondered if Jeff had eaten all of the candy stash that Jay had hidden in the make-up trailer. That might explain his sudden bout of brooding animosity. 

Jared threw his arm around Jensen's shoulders and ushered him in the direction of the shoot, not an unusual move in itself —Jared was a touchy-feely kind of guy with everyone— but something in Jared's posture, his gloating glance at Jeff as he did it, made Jensen feel like he was missing something. 

The scene went... not well. 

Sam was supposed to be upset that the boys were parting ways with John, not want to throw his father under the wheels of his own truck. And John shouldn't have looked like he wanted to choke the breath out of his youngest son every time Sam glanced at Dean.

Kim seemed close to tears after four hours of shooting a set-up that should have taken two hours max. Jensen just wanted more coffee. Or a nap. A nap sounded good. 

"Cut!! Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker. Take twenty minutes, guys," Kim shouted. "Jared, Jeff can you... I don't know... remember how to fucking act, _please_? Jensen!"

Jensen reluctantly stopped in his tracks, the lure of hot coffee calling to him from across the lot. "Jensen, what the hell?"

"What did I do?" Jensen whined. He hadn't done anything had he? He didn't think so. 

"You tell me." Kim scowled over Jensen's shoulder at his costars. "What the fuck's going on? Are you boys pranking Jeff? Are you pranking me?"

Jensen blanched at Kim's raised voice. Kim didn't do angry. Kim was cool, calm, and unflappable. He didn't even blink when Jared's toxic ass gassed out everyone else within a three-mile radius. Even those fucking bees hadn't pushed him over the edge.

"No! No, I swear, I have no idea what's going on."

"Fuck," Kim swore. "We should have wrapped this scene hours ago. If those two don't get their heads out of their asses we're going to have a goddamn mutiny on our hands." Kim cast a wary look towards Dave and Rod who had grabbed two of the prop knives and were making stabby motions while glaring in their direction.

Jensen swallowed. "I'll talk to them." 

Kim nodded, and stared at Jensen, unblinking.

"What? I said I'll talk to them. Let me just grab some coffee from—"

Kim's eyebrows arched in a very pointed way.

Jensen sighed in defeat. "Or I'll go talk to them right now." 

"Good man." Kim clapped Jensen’s shoulder and strolled away in the direction of the catering van. Asshole. 

Jensen took a deep breath, turned up the collar of Dean's jacket, shoved his hands in his pockets and turned back to where he'd left his costars. Who, naturally, had disappeared. Of course, because God only knows Jensen didn't have anything better to do than chase after the two idiots. Thankfully, it wasn’t too hard to find them, Jensen just followed the sound of raised voices. 

"It's none of your business, Padalecki." 

"He's my friend. It's totally my business."

"His _friend_?" Jensen heard Jeff laugh, just before he turned the corner to see Jared attempting to loom over Jeff and Jeff looking less than impressed. "That's what you're calling it, huh?"

Jensen had no idea what was going on, but if any of them actually wanted to make it home without Kim and the crew murdering them, he figured he'd better try to figure it out. 

"Guys," Jensen said. "What the hell is going on? Did I miss something?”

Jared snorted. Jeff glowered at Jared.

Jensen was getting sick of this bullshit. "No seriously, everything was fine the other night, what the hell happened? Did Jeff piss in your fruit loops or something?"

"Your friend Jared here thinks we fucked," Jeff drawled. 

"What?" Jensen gaped. "Why?”

"Jeannie told me," Jared snapped. "She said Nikki saw you sneaking out of his room at the ass crack of dawn looking all kinds of rough."

Jensen squirmed uncomfortably. He knew from bitter experience the problem of wildfire gossip when you worked, and pretty much lived, in the pockets of the same people day in and day out for months on end, but that didn't mean he enjoyed being the focus of it. In fact, he really fucking didn't. 

"And I told him it was none of his damn business." Jeff cast Jensen a look that he couldn't quite interpret. 

"We didn't," Jensen said first and foremost, because he didn’t want Jared to get the wrong idea and he wasn’t entirely sure why Jeff hadn’t led with that. "I mean yeah, I was in his room, but we didn't sleep together."

"Yeah, sure," Jared scoffed. 

Jensen bristled. Jared was acting like an ass and Jeff was right; it was none of his damn business. Jensen didn't pry into Jared’s sex life with his perfect little girlfriend. "Yeah, actually. I was drunk and upset and Jeff let me crash in his room. Because we're friends. Just like _we're_ supposed to be friends, Jared. But you know what, even if I did sleep with Jeff, so what? It ain't got anything to do with you!"

Jensen ignored Jeff's smirk. He was pretty pissed with that asshole too right now. 

"Is this what's been going on with you two?" Jensen carried on. "You think you have to defend my honor or something? I'm a big boy, Jay. If I want to fuck Jeff, hell, if I want to fuck my way through the population of Vancouver, I can."

Jared's jaw clenched, and one telltale vein popped angrily in his neck. Jensen had no idea what his problem was. 

"Are you?" Jared bit out.

"Am I what?"

"Sleeping your way through the population of Vancouver?" 

And that stung, because no Jensen was not. Between working every damn hour of the day and being head over heels in complete fucking duckie love with his dipshit best friend he hadn't time for more than a quickie with his own right hand in weeks… fuck, months actually. And how sad was that.

"No, I'm goddamn not," Jensen snapped. "But that's not the point."

"No," Jeff chimed in. "The point is, Padalecki, you're all but married to that girl of yours, what do you care if I'm fucking your friend's pretty little ass?"

"Hey," Jensen barked at Jeff who held up his hands in what might have been an apology if he hadn't still been smirking.

Jared glared. "I'm not."

"Not what?" Asked Jensen, almost dizzy with the conversation turns. 

"Almost married." 

"Okay," Jensen shrugged. "But I still don't see— "

"I split up with Sandy," Jared blurted out. "The other night. After the bar.”

And okay, that explained why Jared had been in such a foul mood. Didn't mean he should be taking it out on Jeff though, or Jensen. 

"I'm sorry," Jensen said regardless, because despite his assholish behaviour Jared was still his best friend and Jensen didn't want to see him hurting. "I know you loved her, man."

"I didn't."

"Didn’t what?" 

"Didn’t love her. Not really. Not for a while. Not for months."

"O-kay.” Jensen didn't know what to say to that. 

"So," Jeff said, and Jensen had almost forgotten that he was standing there. "You dumped your girl and you decided what… that because you weren't getting any tail that Jensen and I shouldn't either?"

"Jesus fuck." Jensen scrubbed his hand across his face. "Jeff, you're not helping."

"No!" Jared shot Jeff a cold glare. "I just don't want to see Jensen getting hurt by another abusive asshole."

Jeff had Jared against the wall before Jensen could blink. "Say that again you snot-nosed little punk."

Jared shoved back at Jeff, barely managing to push him a step away despite his extra height and youth. "I saw the bruises on his arms after he spent the night in your room. I saw how fucking twitchy he was around you the day after. I'm not an idiot."

Jensen groaned. Okay, he could see this thing from Jared's point of view, but Christ, why hadn't he just talked to Jensen about it rather than acting like a meathead. 

"Jared," Jensen said, squeezing in between the two posturing idiots. "It's not what you think. That wasn't Jeff. There was this creep at the bar— “

"A creep that roofied him,” Jeff added angrily, stabbing his finger at Jared. “And where were you, huh? When your supposed best friend was almost fucking dragged out of the bar by a guy who probably wanted to rape—"

"Okay, that's enough," Jensen snapped as all the color drained from Jared's face. "This isn't helping anything. Nothing happened. I’m fine.”

“Thanks to Jeff,” Jared said, his voice small. 

Jensen nodded, casting a glance at Jeff who’d dropped his smirk and looked if anything a little sheepish. “Yeah, thanks to Jeff. He was in the right place at the right time and he helped me out of what could have been a sticky situation.”

“While I—”

Jensen cut off whatever self-recriminations Jared was about to wallow in. “While you were spending time with your girl. Which is what you were supposed to be doing.”

“But not what I wanted to be doing.” 

Jensen didn't know if he had the patience for this right now. As much as he loved Jared, and fuck, he loved Jared, he didn’t think he could muster much sympathy for his relationship with Sandy unraveling. 

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say and sound genuine. “About you and Sandy splitting. And I get it; why you’ve been...” Jensen stopped himself from saying acting like an asshole just in time, “...a bit uptight.”

“No,” Jared shook his head. “No, that’s not why I’ve been such a jerk. I’m not upset about Sandy. I’ve been... jealous.” Jared cast a dark look towards Jeff.

Jensen wished he knew what the hell was going on. He looked towards Jeff hoping for a clue. 

“Well, I think that’s my cue to leave.” Jeff patted Jensen’s shoulder as he walked away, stopping briefly in front of Jared. “You and I are gonna talk later though.”

“Jesus Christ, Jeff, enough. I can look after myself,” Jensen huffed. Jeff waved him off with a wink and a lopsided smile. 

“Jared,” Jensen said, as much exhaustion as warning in his voice. “I’ve no idea what the fuck is going on, but Kim— “

“Fuck Kim,” Jared said, stepping up into Jensen’s space. “This is more important.”

“More important than our jobs? Jesus Jared, get to the point.” Jensen grit out through his teeth. “Because, man, all this cryptic bullshit is getting fucking old.”

Jared stared at him, apparently having trouble spitting out his words now that Jensen was waiting. Jensen folded his arms, narrowed his eyes and—

Jared kissed him. 

That was unexpected.

Jensen stood frozen. Too shocked to react. To push Jared away or kiss him back. He was still frozen by the time Jared leaned away again, his hand coming up to cup Jensen’s face, his thumb skimming across Jensen’s bottom lip. 

“I love _you_. That’s why I broke up with Sandy.”

Jensen blinked. “Um… what?”

“I love you. I have for months. It just… it took me a while to admit it. To myself.”

“You’re straight.” It seemed the obvious issue to point out first.

“Bi,” Jared said. “I think. Never given too much thought to labels. I know I love you.”

Jensen wasn’t sure how to respond. He should, he knew, be ecstatic. Jared was handing him exactly what he wanted. Saying the words he’d been desperate to hear. And maybe that was the problem. Because honestly, when did that ever happen? Dreams did not come true. Not outside of Hollywood movies and fairytales. 

Jensen wasn’t an idiot. But occasionally, in the past, he’d acted foolishly: he’d fallen too hard and too quickly in love. Found himself tangled in situations that other people seemed to avoid with ease. He had a bad habit of attracting the wrong kind of attention. Attention from assholes who only wanted one thing. 

He didn’t think Jared was an asshole. Not at all. But what he was asking… Jensen didn’t think he could take the risk. After years of other people looking out for him, protecting him, Jensen figured it was about time he started looking out for himself. And maybe that meant not giving Jared a chance to break his heart. 

He took a small uncertain step backwards forcing Jared’s hand to drop from his cheek. “Jared, I… I’m not sure.”

Jared’s face fell. “If you don’t feel the same—”

“It’s not that,” Jensen said, quickly. “I do. You have to know I do. But, Jared, I’ve been hurt too many times. And this, what you want, what you _think_ you want, if it goes wrong, if it doesn’t work out, if you change your mind, then where does that leave us?”

“I won’t change my mind.” 

Jensen wanted so badly to believe him. 

“I know you’ve been hurt before,” Jared said, quiet but determined. “And I don’t blame you for wanting to protect yourself, but Jensen, this is me. I would never, never, hurt you.”

“Not deliberately,” Jensen conceded. “But...”

Jared shook his head. “But nothing. I promise. This isn’t an experiment. I’m not going to change my mind. I want to be with you in every way. And if I ever hurt you, I’d happily let Kane and Steve or Tom or your brother, or… or even Jeff punch me in the face.”

“Or I could just do it myself.” Jensen pointed out. 

“Well, sure.” Jared smiled. “I know you can throw a mean right hook. But the point is you don’t _need_ protected from me. You don’t need to protect yourself from me.”

Jensen could feel his defenses crumbling in the face of Jared’s earnest declarations. 

“Please, Jensen,” Jared crowding back into Jensen’s space, looked down at him, hazel eyes shining and voice dropped low. “Give me one chance. Just one.”

Jensen expected the kiss this time. Fear and excitement twisted in his chest. His heartbeat racing as Jared telegraphed his intentions loud and clear. 

The kiss was gentle. Cautious at first, until Jensen relaxed, his hands coming up to wrap around Jared’s neck and then Jared stopped holding back. 

Jensen’s back collided with the wall, the freezing temperatures forgotten as Jared stole his breath with the heat of his mouth, the hot press of his body. Jensen could feel how badly Jared wanted him. In every touch. In every breathy moan. In the thick bulge of his dick straining against Jensen’s hip. 

It didn’t scare him. It didn’t make him want to run. He kissed back just as fiercely, twisted his fingers in Jared’s hair, gasped when Jared’s hands slid up beneath the layers of Dean’s shirts. 

Jensen had imagined this moment more often than he’d ever admit. Fantasized about Jared’s huge hands and his soft lips, about Jared taking control, rubbing up against Jensen until they were both out of their minds with need. 

The reality was even hotter than the fantasy. Jensen all but melted under Jared’s touch. His dick straining painfully against the zip of his jeans, despite the bitter cold, and fear of being discovered.

“I want you.” Jared tore his lips away from Jensen’s, his fingers fumbling at Jensen’s belt. 

“Jared,” Jensen gasped, his protests dissolving on his tongue as Jared licked a hot stripe up his neck, his teeth scraping at the underside of Jensen’s jaw before nipping at his earlobe. 

Any worry Jensen had about this being Jared’s first time with a guy disappeared the second he worked a hand down inside Jensen’s jeans and wrapped his fingers deftly around his erection. Jensen groaned, his head falling back against the wall. Jared seized the opportunity to suck a bruising kiss against his throat. “Thought about doing this for months,” he confided. “Thought about how you would feel underneath me, about how pretty you would look when I made you come. God, Jensen, you’ve no idea.”

Jensen wanted to say something. To do something. _Anything_. Wanted to make Jared feel this good. Wanted to feel the heavy weight of Jared’s dick in his hand. In his mouth. It had been so damn long since anyone had touched him like this. Since anyone had touched him at all. All he could do was hold on to Jared’s shoulders, gasping and shuddering as Jared jacked him off with sure firm strokes. Jensen wished he could have lasted longer but he came undone in minutes. Jared’s mouth pressed bruisingly hard against his as Jensen shook apart and came in sticky spurts all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” Jensen gasped, the breath punched from his lungs and his thighs trembling from the blinding ferocity of his orgasm. Jared’s hand gripping his hipbone was the only thing holding him upright. 

“Goddamn,” Jared hissed. “So, fucking gorgeous, Jen.”

Jensen whimpered in reply. And slid out of Jared’s hold onto his knees, his fingers reaching up to unbutton Jared’s jeans. 

Jared tried to push his hand away. “Jensen, no, it okay, you don’t have to.”

“Want to,” Jensen said stubbornly, his mouth watering at the sizeable bulge in Jared’s pants. 

“Shit, they’re gonna be looking for us soon.”

Jensen ignored Jared’s reasonable argument and instead released Jared’s dick from its confines. God, he was seriously proportional. Jensen might even have been underestimating him all those nights he jerked off dreaming about this moment. 

“Jensen, we can't. Someone’s gonna find us.” Jared’s voice was strangled, his fingers winding in Jensen’s hair as he gazed down at him.

“You better be quick then,” Jensen said, licking his lips as suggestively as he could before taking Jared’s cock into his mouth. Jared groaned, his fingers twisting in Jensen’s hair, pulling just hard enough to spark a fresh rush of arousal in Jensen and not hard enough to signal that Jared wanted him to stop. 

It definitely wasn’t the best blow-job Jensen had ever given. Jensen was still dazed from his own orgasm, time was against them, and Jared’s size would take some getting used to. But he hoped he made up for in enthusiasm what he lacked in skill. Spit dribbled down his chin as he dug his fingers into Jared’s thighs and urged him silently to move. When Jared did, when his hips started to thrust, his dick sliding over Jensen’s tongue, nudging at the back of his throat, Jensen could feel his own dick thickening again like he hadn’t just come minutes beforehand. 

The frantic messy blow-job may not have been Jensen’s best effort but that didn’t stop Jared from coming just as quickly as Jensen had. His movements losing any sense of restraint, hands clasping Jensen’s head, cock shoving deep past Jensen’s gag reflex just moments before he took them both by surprise and spurted hot and salty down Jensen’s throat. 

Jensen swallowed as best he could but ribbons of spunk trickled down his lips, smearing across his cheeks when Jared quickly pulled out, apologies tumbling from him in a rush. 

Coughing turned to laughter as Jensen brushed away Jared’s apologies but accepted a hand up. His limbs like lead after kneeling on the frozen ground. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Jared said again, tucking himself back in his jeans.

Jensen wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and grinned. “Stop apologizing. It’s fine. Better than fine.”

“That wasn’t how this was supposed to go.”

It wasn’t?” Jensen said, fastening his jeans back up and attempting to straighten his clothes. “You had a plan?”

“I was going to kiss you,” Jared said. “That was the plan. But then you had to look like that and kiss like that and then I almost choked you to death.”

Jensen couldn’t help himself, he giggled. “Hardly, Jay.”

“I’d have had to tell Kim. Can you even imagine? Sorry, we might have to delay filming, I’ve killed Jensen with my huge dick!”

Jensen laughed which he suspected was what Jared was aiming for. “Well, at least you’d know I’d died happy.”

“Yeah?” Jared asked, lips curling in a smile that warmed Jensen’s insides. “You’re happy?”

Jensen stretched up on his toes and gently pressed his lips against Jared’s. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I am.”

Hand cupping Jensen’s chin, Jared kissed him back. Though Jensen’s mouth must have tasted sour with his come, he didn’t stop until they both heard their names being called.

“I think we should continue this later?” Jared said, brushing one more kiss against Jensen’s upturned lips. 

“I’d like that,” Jensen replied. “Perhaps you and Jeff could stop messing around so we can finish up quickly?”

Jared smiled and stepped back as they heard another shout, a PA trying to find them. “I don’t think that will be a problem now.” 

“Good, so no more trying to protect my honor then.” Jensen said, wiping his hand across his face. God, he was a mess. His lips felt swollen hot and his throat rough. When he looked down at himself his jeans were dirt-stained and that probably wasn’t the worst of it. 

“I think it’s clear to see you haven’t got any honor left to protect.” Jared laughed, combing his fingers through Jensen’s hair in an attempt to smooth down the wild mess he’d made. “You look… “

“Like I’ve been ravished?” Jensen said.

“I was going to say well fucked.” Jared grinned, unabashed. “I might have gotten carried away, sorry.” 

He didn’t look remotely sorry to Jensen.

“Ackles! Padalecki!! If your asses aren’t back on set in 1 minute, I’m firing you both.” 

“Shit,” Jensen said. 

“Come on.” Jared smiled and took Jensen’s hand, tugging him towards the glare of lights from the set. “I’ll protect you from the big bad director.”

“My hero,” Jensen said wryly, both of them knowing full well that Kim was a giant pussycat really. 

“You’re on your own with the make-up girls though.”

That was downright cruel. “Jared! They’ll kill me!”

Jared kissed the top of his head. “You did say you could look after yourself.”

But when Jeanie was there, hands on hips, demanding to know how Jensen had managed to look like he’d been mauled by a wild animal in the thirty minutes or less since she’d last seen him, Jeff wasn’t even attempting to hide his laughter, and Kim was loudly questioning his life-choices, Jared stuck right by his side. 

And though Jensen could very easily look after himself, sometimes it was good to know he didn’t have to take on the world alone. 

  
  
  
_Finis!_   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! And thanks to everyone who has supported me this year with kudos and comments. I’m not always the best at replying and I really am sorry for that, but I appreciate the feedback more than you can possibly imagine! Happy New Year and best wishes to everyone for 2020! <3


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